Diverted Routes
by gabrielleabelle
Summary: Post-NFA Buffy/Spike; Once Buffy discovers the location of their current vampire Big Bad, she goes in prepared for a final showdown. The Big Bad, of course, has other plans.


Buffy heard him before she saw him. The unmistakable clink of weapons being thrown into a bag echoed throughout the old train station. She shifted her grip on the scythe and turned the corner. The room she entered was almost completely bare save for a crooked table, a vampire, a pile of weapons, and some luggage.

"You're leaving?" she said. "But the houseguests have just arrived." Spike should be coming around the back way. They'd split up an hour ago. Buffy kept an eye on the back door.

Lane Hibbs, resident vampire and current pain in Buffy's ass, looked up at her appearance. He tossed a hand-axe into the open bag.

"Buffy! Glad you could come, but I'm afraid I'm due to leave these parts now. Sorry!"

Like hell. Buffy hadn't spent three weeks tracking down his location for nothing. After he'd sicked his minions on Dawn - no matter that Dawn had handed their dusty asses to them - Buffy had been out for blood. His blood. Well, his dust.

"I think you're missing your cue. This is the part where we have a decisive battle," Buffy said. "Also, I'm gonna win." A train whistle blared in the distance.

Lane chuckled and leaned over to zip up his bag. "This station used to service the eight o' clock from Philadelphia. Course, the station's abandoned, but the tracks are still used. Train should be coming by very soon."

"Has anybody told you that you're a _very_ boring conversationalist?" Buffy glanced behind him to see if Spike had arrived. No sign of him.

Lane pushed the luggage onto the floor and expanded the handle so he could wheel it along the ground. "I'm wounded. And here I thought you liked me!" He straightened his suit and looked around. "I will miss this place. But now, I do need to depart. Farewell, Slayer."

Buffy rolled her eyes and stepped closer to him. "Did you miss the part where we're going to fight now?"

"And leave your lover to die?"

Buffy froze. "What did you do to Spike?"

Lane checked his watch. "I merely chained him up, which - as I recall - is a favorite past time of yours." He winked. "It's that eight o' clock from Philly you should worry about. I don't think even a vampire would manage to survive that sort of impact." He grimaced in faux-curiosity. "You wanna wait and see?"

The last sentence was delivered to an empty room. Buffy had already turned to exit the station. Behind her, Lane clapped his hands. "Run, Slayer! Run!"

Buffy ran. Already, the roaring sound of the train was louder. She paused outside the station, surveying the mish-mash of different tracks covering the ground. Dammit, where was Spike? Add another thing onto her list of reasons to kick Lane's ass.

Then she heard it. It was faint and highly indignant - she recognized that tone.

"Buffy!"

She sighed and ran in the direction of his yells. Of course, Lane had put him on one of the far tracks. Damn vampire. Both of them. Two stupid vampires.

The train whistled - though calling it a "whistle" didn't exactly do it justice. It bellowed and screamed as it approached with dizzying speed. The engine's light illuminated the area, revealing Spike's bleached blond head shining on the track. He was chained with his hands behind him.

Buffy dropped the scythe. The train's shriek reached its zenith as Buffy ducked in front of it. She grabbed Spike and tossed him to the side, rolling along behind him. The train clipped the edge of her jacket as it rushed by.

For a few minutes, all she could focus on was the thundering noise of the train darting past. Then it was gone.

Buffy stood, brushing off her jeans. On the ground beside her, Spike wiggled in his restraints.

She crossed her arms. Spike swore under his breath and finally looked up at her. "You gonna get these off or what?"

"_How_ did this happen?"

"Do we really need to have this conversation?"

"I'm thinking yes." Buffy stomped back across the tracks and picked up her scythe. "You are over one hundred years old. You've faced down everything from a hellgod to a pack of wild uber-vamps. How on earth did _Lane_, the dandelion of evil vampires, manage to Olive Oyl you?"

Spike glared as she leaned over and struck the chains with her blade. After a couple of goes, the chains fell apart. Spike threw them off and stood up.

"I was distracted," he said. "It happens sometimes."

Buffy sighed. She brushed a hand down Spike's arm. "You okay?"

"Pride's wounded. You get him?"

She shook her head. "You provided just the diversion he needed to get away."

"Fuck!" Spike jerked away, turning around to stalk off. He stopped just a few yards away.

Buffy felt herself coming down off the adrenaline high. She approached Spike and linked her arm through his. She nudged him. "Home now. We'll get him next time."

"Yeah," Spike said. He allowed her to lead him away from the tracks.

"Besides," Buffy said, trying for cheerful. "He's right. You _do_ like being chained up."

"Hush."

_fin_


End file.
